Dark Angel
by Glorioux
Summary: Lucius has the power he had always craved, yet, his mind is falling apart after spying upon Draco's passionate encounter with the Mudblood; and its memory is tearing carefully built binds restrains. A very dark, different, confused, & deliciously innocent Lucius, who has lost much but is about to change after finding the real hot truth about Muggle witches. Pls mature readers only.
1. Descend into Madness

Disclaimer: All recognizable events and characters are the product of J.K.R. The epilogue pages were ripped out my book, maybe by my own hand.

You were always on my mind, started as an idea after listening to a song a dear friend of mine used to love. She left us too soon.

This is dedicated to my warrior friend, the one who is battling a monster and winning, my dear Savva. I wrote this a while ago to enter in a Fest that didn't happen. It is all written so it will be finished. Please notice is a drama and a little different than my other work.

Warnings/Content: Infidelity, madness; voyeurism, a repressed Lucius finding the simple pleasures of a real kiss and more.

This story is not a typical one for me. It is a little darker but I liked it. It suits the mood. This work is a present for all those who still want to read my work.

**Prologue**

**_The Night_**

_They had left when the big party, to celebrate the Minister's latest triumph, was in full swing. His contemptuous daughter-in-law was too busy playing her role of Lady of the Manor to notice her husband. She was a fool, had she been alert she could have seen his actions clearly shown that he was madly in love with the other witch. _

_As for the tall, silver hair Dark wizard, well, that was a different matter; he was always aware; indeed, he kept a close eye on them. He knew of their love because his spies had informed time and time again but couldn't believe it and had to see it on his own._

_He saw them leaving and followed the wayward pair hidden behind a powerful concealment charm. They had looked around carefully and once they ascertained that they not being followed, they ran away from the house whilst laughing joyously and freely as children often do._

_'It' had unfolded as he witnessed their union at the horse stables, where they had obviously believed to be alone. He had stayed and viewed their encounter for at least one hour if not longer. Time became a blur, and the engraved images had continued to rob him of his peace for weeks, really for the rest of his life, until now. _

_He hid in the dark as a thief and saw them kissing wildly while his son loved her with abandonment. Both lay there, naked and pale under the moon light, and the kisses he had witnessed were full of wild passion, more like eating each other; their kissing left him wondering why they would do that, it seemed unsanitary, yet their memory filled him up with a strange longing. _

_Their cries were anguished, in pain, yet their faces glowed with something that eluded him. The young silver hair wizard rutted like an animal, he kneeled on the ground and held on to her thighs. He had never seen anything like that, such a wild coupling. He rubbed his eyes to ensure he wasn't under a charm._

_He didn't understand what he was seeing and later decided it must be a sickness. He appraised the things they did to each other to be obscene yet beautiful. Yet, after he heard his son's cries of pleasure while his face contorted in some unrecognizable emotion, the pale wizard wondered what made his son cry so loud; it was all foreign to him._

_And then to see the Mudblood contorting in shared ecstasy, a witch who felt physical pleasure was more than he could handle, it filled him up with foreign and desperate needs. _

_He often remembered her small, delicate body under his son's ministrations; and sometimes, during fleeting moments, he understood why his daughter-in-law would never be enough for his son. He could see the other witch's smaller body glowing under the moonlight, her nipples pointing as her breasts jiggled under their unrestrained coupling- it was right there and then when he had craved to have his tongue tasting her sex._

_Oh yes, his son had even drank from her sex; he had read about it such aberrations; however, until that time, he fancied it was for depraved lower classes. And once again, he was proven wrong, the act he thought abhorrent, must have been pleasurable if his son was any indication; he had licked his lips when he was done and went for more. He even kissed her mouth when he came up, wild and drunk with her juices. He could see his son, erect and his lips glistening...His eyes closed remembering. In his dreams he often took his son's place._

_Her fingers have been in all his body cavities, doing what? Well, something he had no idea. It seemed homosexual, but how could that be, the look in in his son's face made him tremble, and his own cock burned with need._

_It was at the instance the small, curly hair witch impaled herself on her lover's large tumescence when his heart nearly stopped. That would have made the third time the young wizard had climaxed within the hour; yes, she had awoken a demon inside his reserved son._

_As she slowly lowered her body upon his, his son's face said it all, head thrown back, eyes closed, no doubt, he was in an enviable ecstatic state, and she was a Goddess with her wild hair flowing, her semi closed eyes and her lips slightly open. His golden son, in turn, had half opened his eyes and bended his body in order to see his large prick going inside of her, while his hands held on to her perfect breasts and her fingers pinched his nipples. The older wizard had looked at her face, her eyes were now closed, her head also thrown back, and her body shuddered with unknown sensations. Something was clear to father, his son knew more than him._

_He had to leave, otherwise his heart had threatened to explode and it would have, had he stayed one more instance. He hadn't wanted to Apparate since he needed to breathe the cold air and come back to reality; during his walk he fell down, at least twice, and had to stop to vomit several times on his way to the Manor. _

_Upon his return, he just locked himself at his study, pulled out the memory, played it, and relived it until the sun came up. He analyzed it, looked for books trying to find an answer, but not once he understood. He was absent for the rest of the party surrounded by the maelstrom of his unbridled emotions, contaminated by the ever growing disease that had taken root deep inside of his soul. His sanity had left him, and he was tainted and hungry for the secrets his son knew._

**Chapter 1**

**Descend into Madness - Months Later-**

The blond aristocrat sat at a bar, owned by a Muggle born, that his son used to frequent. Three of his men, who always accompanied him, were told to sit at an adjacent table. He just couldn't stomach others near him, not ever, not even while playing his role as a public figure.

His internal loneliness was all consuming, so pervasive it was that even when surrounded by others, he felt totally alone. The feeling of being isolated increased the ever growing desire to fade inwards, to cease breathing, and to dive head first into the nothingness of the darkness surrounding his twisted soul.

His ascent into power was meaningless without Draco. His son was the one person he had truly loved. Power for its own sake was worthless; it was a legacy for your heirs, for the extensions of your being, a way to a type of immortality; and here he was at the pinnacle of his power with nobody to share it with.

This night he wore the garments Draco had worn on that infamous day. He had picked them from his son's wardrobe because he detected his smell all over the clothes. A scent was all that was left of him; whoever took him, the shapeless masked individuals, had made him strip in front of everyone- He groaned and closed his eyes, he just couldn't think about it and needed to make his mind stop the perpetual carousel of painful memories before his mind would explode.

He caught the attention of the bar attendant, who, at once, came to take his order.

"Yes, bring me another double, wait and bring me the bottle straight to the table you offered earlier."

The bartender wanted to show his contempt, but for his own sake, he nodded his head gracefully.

Lucius ruminated; he was the only one to blame for his misery. His entire life's tragedies were a direct result of his damned pride, and his very own doing; a consequence of his hunger for power and of his thoughtless actions. He stood up to move to the table, his shoulders slumped.

"May I?" A soft and familiar female voice inquired in a near whisper. A known fragrance wafted to his nose, and at once he knew. His heart thumped disorderly, and his throat felt dry all of a sudden.

A small hand touched his, and he recoiled. Looking up, he saw the one he had chosen to blame and to name as the main instigator of the chaos around him; the one who triggered the recent horrific events; the very one who had set the wheels of fate in motion. He still wanted to find another to assign guilty for his own sins. His watchdogs made a move to stop her, but he raised his hand with alacrity, and they moved back.

The tall, blond-wizard's grey eyes, coldly zeroed upon the offending appendage gracefully holding on to the crook of his arm. The delicate hand he knew so well actually dared to touch him. His body tensed and readied for an expected onslaught. She was dangerous, and he was fully aware of the dangers she represented.

"Don't touch me; the tragedy of his disappearance started with you!"

He barked his words between clenched teeth. He snarled at the hand's owner as his body shot up, perfectly straight, just as a cobra unfurling inside a basket, and he raised his head, ready to strike. His lip trembled in a snarl, and his eyes glowed with fury. A dark, ominous halo of angry magic emitted from his head. She looked at his hand, and at once noticed that he had not gone for his wand.

Strangely enough, after the spark of recognition, neither had attempted to move the offending hand away, nor did she move it once she sat down.

He moved his stool, ever so slightly, closer to the interloper until their legs nearly touched. His eyes glanced at his arm; good, her hand was still there, and that was the right place for it, at least it seemed that way.

His face moved towards his companions, and his expression spoke loud and clear, "Stay away," and then he conveyed a command to survey the perimeter for suspicious characters.

* * *

A/N. Next Chapter next friday. I am working on my other works, this one is completed and will have 10 or 11 chapters around this same length.


	2. The Revelation

JKR owns it all.

Note: In answer to an anonymous comment; while many authors, to include myself, often portray Lucius as a super lover, I decided to explore another avenue. I have never read JKR ascertain this aspect either way. More over, and at a first glance, the Pureblood wizarding world seems stiff and old fashioned, and it would make this Lucius a real possibility. I think, that it is premature to declare this Lucius as a cold fish; I think everyone needs to hold their horses, and if you all wish, come along for the ride. I tried to portray a confused Wizard, wondering what he had seen, and the reason he got sick was pure disgust and surprise at his reaction and at the guilt of being a snoop. Thanks to any of my former readers who are still out there. While I cannot promise to update all my work regularly, I can safely assure that this story is all written.

**The Revelation**-

The tall, silver hair wizard moved his stool, ever so slightly, closer to the interloper, until their legs nearly touched. His eyes observed his arm; good, her hand was still there, and that was the right place for it; at least he thought it was where it belonged, close to him.

His face moved towards his companions, and his expression spoke loud and clear, "Stay away," and he conveyed a command with his fingers to survey the perimeter for suspicious characters.

Next, in one swift and unexpected move, she bent her head and brought her nose next to his jumper's sleeve. Her voice was barely audible, "Draco, it smells of him," and the statement was followed by an anguished cry.

That wasn't all, to his horror, she brought his wrist to her face; rubbed her cheek against his arm; she might had even kissed it a couple of times; and, finally, her hand stayed there, where it had been before, right on the crook of his arm. Finally, her body relaxed and leaned towards his. She felt dizzy, and Draco's intoxicating scent which impregnated the clothes his father worn, just worsened her heartache. Draco, my love, where are you, could you please answer me. She desperately tried to reach his mind...but no answer was forthcoming.

Lucius still didn't move, even when he heard the quiet sobs, saw her head collapse over her folded arm, and felt her enticing warmth so near him. Her floral scent wafted to his nose, and he took a deep breath of the calming and delightful aroma.

He was rather glad that the place was dark and afforded a privacy screen from others. The loud music also acted as a sound baffle to attenuating her distressing sounds of grief. In any case, most people would have not, even, dared to look at them; moreover, only a handful might have ever consider to risk a glance, but only for a fleeting moment; after all, everyone knew that such an intrusion would be dealt-with, in a swift and harsh manner by one of his goons.

Her presence confused him just as it had for months now, he couldn't avoid flashing to the images of the Night; the same ones that he could never be away from, not for long. Out the corner of his eye, he saw his fingers advance just as if they were self propelled; whereby he observed them advance, with detachment, as they moved ever so slightly, towards the object of their desire. And, before he could stop them, the roving fingers had threaded through the thick rope, her silky braid, which spilled over the table and hung nearby his hand.

He knew that his hand was hidden from curious eyes; and he let his mind spin out of control—_Ah, his hand was touching real Fairy silk, great_. he decided to firmly hook his fingers through the plaited hair after he remembered— _One needed to keep a strong hold of the found treasure after all, everyone knew that fairies often reclaim their property if you let it go, even for a blink of an eye_—and just a few seconds later, he was oblivious that it was her hair he held in his hand. His mind was half-broken from grief, and his hold in reality was tenuous at best, however, the feel of her hair granted him a small respite of his never ending sorrow and pain.

"I loved him, you know; I still do. I hope he is still alive; I feel that he is, and he is waiting for us. He hasn't lost the hope that we are looking for him; but it might be my imagination. I just don't know—I believe that someone holds him," a visible shudder shook her head in fear, "and who knows for what nefarious purposes."

A soft tremulous voice had broken through the fog wrapped around his perception; she must been the one just talking to him.

No answer, he was unable to speak. Although he felt unwell, this wasn't a brand new sensation; not indeed, such malaise had been the status quo for months. And up to a few minutes ago, his internal responses to the stimulation were more of the same; however, this new sort of discomfort was foreign to him. His consciousness lacked continuity, and an ever increasing feeling of disassociation disconnecting his rational mind from this time and place. He had, even, fleetingly considered that this could be a dream; indeed, the very music being played sounded as a cacophony from distant imaginary lands .

_The advertisement that made him come to this particular club had spoken of some kind of old but good choices- yes, it had said, come tonight, an early Valentines' love celebration... to oldies but goodies... Whatever that meant, so this had to be real, he couldn't have made up the infernal sounds if he tried, and let alone, who could imagine the garish decor of tasteless cupids, kissing silhouettes, and an inordinate quantity of red papier-mâche depicting hearts, and other absurd images._

He wanted to feel this was real, thus he tightened the fingers meshed in her long braided tresses, nearly yanking a piece; this he liked, it felt right, and he wanted to keep it; oh, yes, it reminded him of better times, of female comforts, and it anchored him to the ever receding shores of his sanity.

Ah, all the sensorial impressions also told him this wasn't a dream; most of all, the warm hand on the crook of his arm, the very one, which caused most of his distress, was real. Regardless of any discomfort, she shouldn't move it because it was right where it belonged. And there was also the silk rope he held on to it; it had such a calming effect; and he momentarily wondered where 'it' had come from. Then her hand moved and gently held his wrist, over the sleeve, not touching his bare skin, nevertheless, a wave of magical wellbeing coursed along his veins, and it granted him a short and welcomed escape from the torments inflicted upon him during all his waken minutes.

"We are still looking, and we haven't given up on finding Draco; I cannot, you see, Scorpius and I need him. Your grandson will be here in less than fifteen weeks; and he wishes for his father to welcome him into this world, would you please help us find him?" She spoke hesitantly.

He heard her swallow, probably taking a deep breath. Her words brought a wave of anxiety, and he understood the need to carefully listen. He then drank a long sip of firewhiskey to calm his rapidly beating heart because the words he might have heard couldn't be right. A deafening roar of cascading water was creating an interference with his hearing, and he willed away, he must pay attention. She continued, and he listened.

"We all recognize you were disappointed when he joined us, a group whose existence and mission is to find a way to reform the current regime. It was never against you personally, but against the general ideology, the widely spread abuse of power, and the policies which allow a prevailing disregard to protect and uphold all its citizens' basic human rights, and to respect the value of every human life." A deep sigh halted her speech for an instant, her hand trembled on his wrist, and its former warmth was now replaced with pure ice. He cringed at the cold sensation.

"Draco truly loves you and would never intentionally hurt you. I know that you know who we are; so be the father he has always lived and respected, and please help us locate him. His enemies should be yours; furthermore, you have the power and resources, and we have the needed intelligence. "Her voice was full of conviction—and hope.

The flow of words had still come to him from behind a loud waterfall; the rumble must have jumbled her statement because he had heard something that couldn't be right.

_The one sitting by him was the Mudblood, the one for whom his golden young wizard had betrayed his blood; the very same one who dragged him into the murky world of the underground guerrilla, deep into the shadowy world of the cold war; the place created to force change on idiots like himself, Draco's father, Lucius Malfoy._

_If he had bent just a little, he would still have his family, instead he held-on to an ideology promulgated by false prophets, of those, the very ones, whose words promoted violence and hatred... and just see what it had done for him_. A disgruntled sound escaped his lips.

_This was the postwar world where Voldemort had died but in paper only; where his class still ruled; where voices of people like her were squelched by murder during their sleep. Most terrible of all, it was the land that he governed cleverly disguised as the benevolent Minister of Magic._

_Those who took his son might be working for him, and he had to agree that she was right on that point. And he understood that his efforts to ignore the blatant accumulating evidence were behind his instability and forcing him to lose his mind. The guilt and the inertia that prevented him to take corrective action were also corroding him inside. He was afraid to find out that one of his officials had been behind it, that it had been a deed done on his behalf, and perhaps something that it had been executed to please him. He was sick just thinking about, his precious Draco, his beloved son might be dead because of his false pride._

Somehow aware that she waited for his response, he made an effort to answer, straight from the middle of the deep abyss where his dark and twisted soul now dwelled, and he thought about his role in his son's abduction, he continued his internal analysis temporarily unable to stop —_This new society was a deceitful world of smoke and mirrors; a place where Death Eaters were leaders who dressed in fancy dark robes and fed the masses lies about the winds of change; they spewed words while they murdered, misappropriated, and committed atrocities without any impunity._

_Yes, the realm where he, Lucius Malfoy, was the Master Puppeteer, or, the new and improved, Dark Lord; a world made possible by Harry Potter, the Gryffindor princess, and the Blood traitor; those whose sense of fairness had even kept him and his family off Azkaban, the irony of all. He, Lucius, was the true deceiver, just as Draco had labeled him the day when he had wrongly accused him, his own father, of him being behind Harry's curse; of his being responsible of such heinous act of repaying kindness with poison._

He finally spoke once the weight and meaning of her words finally took hold and brought his internal dialogue to a full stop, what had she said? No, no, and no, she was wrong!

His found his voice and it was low and angry, he spoke between clenched teeth, "You lie; what you have told me, it isn't possible, he was happily married to the one who legally deserved his name. Draco, my son, couldn't have—" and before he could finish, her hand grabbed his forcefully and made him lay it upon her growing belly.

"Here, feel it, and then call me a liar." His men jumped at her sudden action, which they had assessed as aggressive and readied their wands, to disable her if needed.

Her now warm hand had the feel of the softest silk; the delicate and small palm covering his, had seared his skin as if was made out burning coals. He gritted his teeth to drown the expression of the 'discomfort' he now experienced on his lower body. His lids felt heavy and his body responded to the unbidden, throbbing sensations.

And suddenly, a strong stream of pure, clean magic ebbed through his veins; and his heart nearly stopped at the fluttering under his hand. To his amazed senses, a small body came towards his Malfoy hand; and just as it had always been so, since the first Malfoy child. And, to his astonished eyes he saw the undeniable glow all around his hand; it was made out of a dark-indigo crystalline light with twirls of fire twisting around it, and right under his hand, above her belly, floated the transparent form of a male fetus whose small perfect hand was within his reach. His heart contracted, and a maelstrom of conflictive emotions flooded his brain.

No way, but yes, she was carrying a Malfoy male, it was unquestionable, and his magic was great. His expression registered amazement, followed by an unexpected angry snarl, a very nasty and possessive growl. His voice came out biting and hard, and he looked at her with surprise and intense indignation. His reaction was unexpected, and it filled her with concern.

"The One you carry under your breast, he is not YOUR Scorpius as you erroneously claim! You are sadly mistaken because he belongs to me, to the Malfoy's house, and to me as his Lord."

He sneered and gifted her with a chilly stare that filled her with pure dread. He continued, his voice was menacing and his dark aura became visible to her eyes, "His life is full of powerful magic. Just look at the 'flames,' those are currents of the purest form of magic I have ever seen; and can you see how many there are? Their quantities mean that his core is exceptional, and you...you, you have dared to come into this filthy den of iniquity while you carried Scorpius and irresponsibly and carelessly, may I add, brought him into this place?"

Once he had unleashed his furious response, his eyes changed as they drifted downwards once more, and fixed upon her belly, and this time she was able to witness the clear reverence shown in the grey steely eyes. Never before had she witnessed this transformed and caring persona, what a difference it made. Her eyes blinked in wonder, at his amazing beauty.

"You cannot continue your existence in the shadowy world. You must come back to your deserving job; nobody occupies it and is waiting for you. You have no right to endanger Draco's son; he is all I have left from him; you owe me this."

His demeanor had rapidly morphed and gone was the angry snake, and when he leaned forward, towards her, he made sure that his leg touched hers, and he pressed it more firmly. Draco's cologne and his scent surrounded her, lulling her senses, and making her hungry for more.

*``~~~``*o*``~~~``*

A/N I would love to hear from you all. Remember that this is a drama and Lucius is not playing with a full deck of cards.


	3. Bad Choices

JKR owns it all.

**Bad Choices and a Self Appointed Protector**

"It is not against you my dear; you must know how grateful I am, for bringing him back to his grandfather." His voice had turned seductive, low and enticing; the snake enthralling its unsuspecting prey. His eyes were the color of silver, the pupils dilated, his nostrils flared, as the predator displayed his enchantments.

She listened to his hypnotic drawl and looked at his sensuous lips, as they spewed his discourse. His mellifluous speech was covered with a thick layer of praise-flavored-frosting, yet, it was no less insulting or accusatory. Behind the sweetness, a steel edge left no doubt; it commanded the law to be obeyed, his own brand in a world where he was the master. Oh dear God, what had she done? She should have listened to her closest ones, they all had been right.

She had become his willing prisoner. No need to find her, no, she had freely walked right into the snake pit, and turned into the proverbial sacrificial lamb. She had lacked of an ounce of self-preservation in her eagerness to beg for her beloved wizard. Damn, she had thrown all caution to the winds and had refused to listen to either her brilliant mind, or to the good advice of her friends and supporters.

She had insisted that he wouldn't dare to behave inappropriately in such a public place. Now, he wouldn't let her go, however, not for the same reasons her group feared, but, instead, for personal reasons only known to the monster.

The brief smile left Lucius' lips, and his hands turned ice cold; angst and fear had taken a hold of him upon the a realization which pictured abysmal events flashing across his mind. Had the order that he had, recently and thoughtlessly, issued come to pass - Merlin, had she been captured and brought her down if she resisted; oh gods, mother and son would have been murdered; what kind of monster was he? He knew the answer, one who had nearly ended it all. He had nearly been the murderer of the witch sitting by him.

A cold chill ran through him, and his body visibly shuddered upon the realization that the dreaded scenario he has just conjured; gods, it could have happened tonight, a few minutes before; it could have gone the way he just pictured, had Goyle and company seen her first. He felt ill and bile rose to his throat.

Once again, justice's finger pointed at him adjudicating full blame. He was guilty, regardless of his claims of ignorance about the Malfoy heir's existence. Because of his intransigency, he had forced them, the mother and the babe living inside her womb, to inhabit in dangerous places and to scurry and hide away from his long reach.

The sudden awareness of the very possible outcome of his actions had not only frozen his blood, but had also made him unreasonably angry, not at his own person, of course not, but at the world in general.

He must ensure their protection, and to do so, it was imperative to take her out of this place, by force if needed. He wanted her away from a drinking establishment, a place where others could come close to her and would actually share the same air of her precious cargo.

This was a disreputable den, just look at the décor, at the clientele, at the locale where lustful and undeserving wizards, might be able to see her, touch her, and want her body. At once, righteous indignation filled him, and he wanted to proclaim her body a place of worship, a shrine. His sense of superiority rose as a fierce tide, and the need to protect his family rapidly took over him. He couldn't be reasonable where his legacy was in peril.

If the Malfoy magic had allowed conception while Draco was married to his lawful Pureblood wife, then, she must be unique, so mote it be. She was a treasure nearly destroyed during her damn war against him. He was reasonably certain that she was the ring leader or the dissident movement, and he smirked at the thought; yes, she was very intelligent and full of great magic, thus her, or rather, his Malfoy baby would be without equal.

_She really had forfeited her rights at the very instance he corroborated she carried his hope; what had she been thinking about? The mere idea of one of his goons hurting a Malfoy heir had made him shake with abject terror. He had no choice, and he had to think for both of them. It was his duty to the Malfoy house and to Draco, his son._

He held no illusions that he was innocent; once again his actions had nearly destroyed all that was left. It was all very clear to him; he had to protect the two in front of him. After all, the two were rightfully his; it was all clearly inscribed in the old law books, the ones from the first scrolls brought across the portals over 4,500 years before. He was his own judge and knew his role in Narcisa's suicide; and that Draco had been abducted and was missing because of his crimes; and that he was guilty at nearly endind his own line; and it was time to begin his amends.

Hermione's brown eyes were fixed on his face; his eyes were calculating at the speed of light. She could see the gears in action, the rapid blinks processing and planning some diabolical machination; it was too late by the time to back out. It had been too late the moment she became all too aware of the folly of her actions.

She looked around the crowded pub; she needed to get away, her conviction was further substantiated by looking at Malfoy again. The Dark wizard's persona emanated feral power and madness. She tried to call Draco in her mind and only found a tall wall, one she was unable to breach; the same reached since the day he had been taken. But it wasn't an empty void, instead there was a blockage, and this gave her hope.

At a glance, the club was crawling with the nouveau-government members. They were the new elite, composed of the opportunists who had chosen to forget the sacrifices made on their behalf. The ones who preferred to forget that Harry lay in a coma in St Mungo's since three years ago, after being cursed. At the time, he had been an Auror, high up on the ranks.

They had been out, the trio, eating lunch in a popular eatery and some unknown cloaked wizard, who easily escaped, had casted a spell which had put him into a coma. Ron closely followed, while at work at the store and testing a new trick, he had clutched his chest and died of a massive heart attack, and then only her was left of the legendary trio.

But they were not the only cold war casualties, and the list went on. By now, most of the leftover defenders of the light lived in the shadows, hiding from the new regime. Even those who had originally been given positions of power or money like heir chose to run and hide; all because Lucius' madness had made it bad for each one of them. However, Draco's kidnapping had pushed Malfoy into a rampage, and it had to stop. He blamed everyone but himself for what had happened.

She still had a job or did until six weeks ago, when she had taken a leave of absence approved by Lucius Malfoy's deputy. She waited until he had left to travel to the continent; just as he had earlier announced during the staff meeting. Not that she needed to run, as the head of the new ministry of Magical Creature affairs, she was fairly untouchable. The society was starting to notice after Draco's taking, the voices of the people were clamoring, and caution was being exercised by the new government. Taking her would have been a major strike against Lucius' rule, but she no longer felt safe and feared for her child.

It was no surprise that people followed her life. It wasn't surprising, after all, she was the only one left from the golden trio. She was the golden child, and even former Death Eaters, took notice of her; after all, she had helped many of them to get out Azkaban.

She was courted by more than one house as a breeding mare, willing to overlook her blood in exchange for her powerful magic. It was becoming harder and harder to turn suitors downs, and some had even offered protection against Malfoy. Soon, if Draco was gone, she would make her choice, at least, her choice had also cared for Draco, he was one of his best friends, a tear of sadness rolled down her cheek.

She finally located George to her left and at least four more of her associates nearby, but they would be killed before they could get to her.

They were all angry with her after their contact had called them in one of their cell phones. He had hoped to alert her of Lucius arrival. She remembered their warnings.

_Hermione, be sensible, what is it to be gained? You have told us time after time of how much you fear his reaction. Draco wouldn't be happy knowing you are endangering his child. Or better, what if others are right, there are those who swear that he destroyed his office when he found you gone_. _Have you considered that he might want you for his own?_

One if her Pureblood supporters, a blond wizard who was one of her suitors, had tried to convince her without success. They were all desperate; besides there were rumors that the monster wanted their leader, Hermione, for himself, and the mere possibility scared them to death.

"You have to know, the Malfoy live by strange, archaic rules that are sanctioned by old and new laws; some are quite barbaric, dealing with wives, children, and possessions."

One of Draco's friends had told them, it was a big revelation made in a last attempt to stop her; he didn't like to divulge close-hold knowledge about the old families, especially to those outside of the privileged circle. However, this time it was necessary. Even he and Draco would, if they were asked, obey the laws; property, inheritances, and knowledge were tied to the close adherence of the laws.

"I'm not a wife, and he isn't going to want my son." Alas, now she realized that she really didn't know old laws and should have listened. What did she know, or could she say about families that could be traced since times untold?

"That is where you are wrong," another wizard from an old family retorted. "Lucius' family goes to the beginning, to the portals. He will keep you, and who knows what he will do with and to you. There are no out of wedlock Malfoys, not now, nor ever before and there will never be. It is a Malfoy's secret what makes it possible, and I know it to be right.

At best, he will make you marry him; he will not let a Malfoy baby away from the fold, and he will do whatever is needed. Please don't go." Even if he didn't know whether or not Malfoy wanted her, he knew of the secret magic that would not allow Lucius to let her go. It was just not their way.

They all well knew that without her, the rebellion was dead, or at the very least, it would lose support from the ones at high places, unless they could rescue her if they needed to.

Yes, Hermione thought, she had been warned. There, at a nearby table, she identified the burly, young wizards, the Bulgarians, whose lifetime salaries had been paid by Viktor, who also was in a deep coma; as a matter of fact under the same exact curse that Harry was under.

Great, they were coming to help; damn, at his right she saw his body guards, consisting of Goyle and a couple of punks ready to strike. They had seen several Aurors posted outside, and they would come running if trouble was perceived. The outcome didn't look favorable for her wizards. It was all her fault.

Lucius didn't want any harm to come to the witch by his side; however, she had made a fatal tactical error. Not only, she lacked understanding of his Pureblood traditions, but even less could she envision the Malfoy's blood-bonds, and the old magic which governed many of their actions. She couldn't have known the significance of the sentient home choosing her as the mother of Malfoy heir; he barely could, and he had never even read or heard about such thing.

He couldn't let her go; it would be his death knowing she was out there, carrying his future, taking away all that he had left. By law, since he was alone, she belonged to him; she was Draco's partner by grace of her pregnancy, and even the Winzegamot would respect his rights to keep her.

Funny, even at that moment, it didn't occur to him how her bond to Draco magically tied him to her. In his madness, he had overlooked an important legal factor, what that he could appeal that very moment since she was already his, really his, not just in his confused mind.

Because of her revelation, Astoria had lost his allegiance just a few minutes ago; the fucking barren witch. Or better, a witch who didn't want her stick like figure ruined by pregnancy. No, she wanted to be the de-facto crowned beauty of their new world. And she had shamelessly proclaimed herself as the new queen of Pureblood society, and as the new Lady Malfoy, but without the inconvenience of a baby; because she had wanted to "wait" to enjoy their married life. What a laugh, the one enjoying the married life was Draco, and not necessarily with Astoria.

Lucius hadn't imposed their traditions on her; even when she came into his room dressed in suggestive, transparent chiffon gowns to parade her bones, in a failed attempt to remind him of the Malfoy ways.

She made him sick and had it long coming. She would be stripped of her name and properties come tomorrow. She was no longer a Malfoy. He would set up an annuity and a modest house in the Continent, and would make her wear one of the new wrist cuffs to bar her from the UK; he didn't want a viper near his heir.

Greg approached; he was no longer burly and rather handsome. Hermione saw his eyes gleaming with malice; he wanted a piece of the little Mudblood, and he had for a long time, she was one tasty morsel. At once, his broad hand roughly grabbed Hermione's arm and made her wince with pain, "Lord Malfoy, is this unworthy rubbish giving—"

His lord's eyes gave him a look which froze his blood, and his heart's beat became loud and disorderly. He was caught inside the proverbial hunter's light, frozen in place, and couldn't move a muscle.

Lucius' voice was low and venomous, his teeth were clenched, his face's color had risen, splotches of red colored his porcelain skin; his hand covered Hermione's free hand and felt her trembling, "You are the unworthy; take your hands-off her at this instance. We are going to dance, hands-off, now! Or, tell me, do you have a death wish? I can make it real."

Goyle was not only unable to move away, but his hand had, all together, stopped working; he tried again but his arm remained paralyzed in place.

Lucius was aware that Greg had frozen in fear; nevertheless, his voice filled full of menace and anger. His hard eyes fixed on Greg's hand, the one that had pulled the witch's hand from his arm, and still held on to her arm_. _

_He, probably, held her too hard, perhaps causing her discomfort and pain. How could he have dared?_ Lucius tried to calm himself with little success, the idea of Greg hurting her was further unhinging him.

"Effective immediately, you are to address her as Miss Granger, is that understood? And if I hear you have said one single word against her, you might find yourself without a tongue. Maybe, after you are gone from bleeding to dead, your dear beautiful mother and her stepson and lover, could be invited to spend a season in the suites at Azkaban. Fancy that, Lord Goyle, your poor little brother, sweet Ephraim, living at one of the orphanages once all his family is gone."

Lucius' voice demanded compliance; everyone knew that his threats were never in vain. His tone spoke volumes, clearly stating that he had reached his tolerance levels.

"Listen to me, I am about to slice your arm off, let it go now and pray to all deities that you didn't bruise her!"

The angry words triggered his brain to respond, and Greg's started working. Right away, he let go of her arm and backed fearfully; he knew of those who had died for much less. Maybe the rumors were true; according to many, Lucius had claimed the Mudblood instead of Astoria who waited for him. Draco's wife should have been the choice; furthermore, she expected it, as it was the tradition of the house of Malfoy.

He knew that Lucius had turned her down all along. Fuck, he had placed his bids on the wrong witch, and with his ill choice he had forfeited his life.

He knew first hand that his Lord had been inconsolable since the moment that Draco had been abducted; and he had seen Lucius' plain brooding since Granger had taken leave.

If that were to be the case, then Granger was the favorite, correction, Miss Granger was the one, and he had to watch his step carefully. He wished he had been able to gain from the opportunity and had been solicitous to go up one more rung; maybe he could have been appointed as her personal assistant, but instead, he had caught the Lord's unwanted attention and had earned his wrath.

Why hadn't he listened when Francis, his brother, had told him to stay away from Astoria, that she was nothing but a danger to his future? He needed to talk to Astoria soon and try to find out how much Lucius knew about him, about them. He shuddered in fear.

He bowed without pride, "I am so sorry Miss Granger. I am too zealous about our Lord's safety, please forgive me." He knew she was generous, noble, and kind, thus he hoped she would protect him from harm. He believed Draco, and he had told her of her kind soul. Draco had tried to sway him to her movement, and he had betrayed his confidence to Astoria, what a fool he had been. He waited for Miss Granger to answer.

"Greg, straighten out, I am still the same person, the one you went to Hogwarts with, and you are fully forgiven. I understand that you were only doing your job." Her arm still throbbed, but she didn't want someone else hurt.

Greg wasn't surprised at her reaction; he had counted on it, and once again bowed gratefully, no subterfuge or pretense. He would make amends and come out on top, besides he never forgot a good turn. Draco had been right, Miss Granger was a superior witch, and he had bid on the wrong horse.

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**Next time, a previous of the coming attractions. **

Lucius held on to her waist, his fingers barely touching her, "Shall we,my dear?"

He wanted her in his arms. His mind was cloudy, and the need to protect her was driving him... He felt the music as a siren call, because to have her inside his arms, as allowed during dancing, held an irresistible lure.

A/N: If you are enjoying this story, drop a line and let me know. Hope, it is all making a little sense. I love Lucius…don't we all?

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A/N I would love to hear from you all. Remember that this is a drama and Lucius is not playing with a full deck of cards.


	4. The dancers

Disclaimer: JKR owns the characters.

Some of you have wanted to know if Draco is dead or alive. I guess we will need to read ahead, but maybe is no relevant. Why don't we wait and see. This is an experimental piece, and I am not sure if I am going to extended it past of the chapter I wrote as the last. Hope you all enjoy it

**The Dancers**

The D.J., a yank import, loved to play Muggle music; he would claim the singers and or the bands were magical beings living amongst the Muggles, hiding out in the open. His tale could be having been true, across the pond there were no hidden magical communities, but it wasn't, he just did what he wanted and lied to make it possible. He was one strange wizard.

Lucius held on to her waist, his fingers barely on her, "Shall we my dear?"

He wanted her in his arms. His mind was cloudy, and the need to protect her was driving him to act. He was deep into uncharted territories; all the feelings overcoming him were brand new and shinny. He only knew that the need have her inside his arms, as allowed during dancing, held an irresistible lure.

She wanted to resist but thought of it better. She had seen her companions coming towards her, ready to rescue her. Greg was probably not very contrite; he still watched her with hawk's eyes, doubtlessly waiting for a slip up from her part. And she didn't want blood loss over her, there have been enough death around her to last her a lifetime.

She knew that if she was to resist Lucius, a bloody fight was sure to ensue and all would be lost.

She had been crazy by even 8 she could change his mind. Now, the demented monster thought her baby belonged to him. Had she known this, she would have stayed where she had been, hiding right in front of his eyes. Draco had been right; he was blinded by his power.

Lucius insides were causing him distress, her touch was polluting his pure soul, and her muddy blood was infecting his perfect blood. His skin felt warm and prickling, his cock was hard, throbbing, and dripping, not a normal reaction. Besides, the surging emotions made it hard to breathe. This had to be about the child and not about him, thus he needed to rein on the wild feelings running amok his head and coursing through his blood stream.

Something inside him had changed since the NIGHT. It had awoken a hidden hunger, or it had made him ill.

Memories-

He had never felt like this, for him sex was merely a bodily function to procreate, or a need that had to be addressed and sated, hence the reason for marriage, to avoid these bestial urges. His lovely Narcissa had met all his needs without complaints. During her life, she was only touched by him and had been pristine and clean...he remembered.

_He liked schedules; hence, they usually met every Wednesday and Saturday from 9:00 to 9:45 P.M.; of course, there were some additional occasions such as anniversaries, balls, vacations, and such, or whenever he wanted to be "fit" and free of temptations, or when she expected a bit of romance. He always took care before going to Hogwarts – better to be prepared with all the beauties offering their subtle and nubile bodies to him, and their nearness when they would come in close contact..._

_Cissa would met him in her room, fresh out the shower, her skin still warm from the steam. She always wore some charming lingerie, just a little risqué, alluring yet provocative, worn with matching jewelry, and very high heels, and she would have dabbed one of the perfumes he liked. He wore only his robe, which she hung for him after lightly kissing his cheek._

_He would usually recline, naked and already aroused, on the prepared divan by the fireplace where a glass of one of his favorite wines and one or two delicacies waited for him, usually something truly aphrodisiac. He would often touch himself because she liked it, although he deemed it a bit over the edge, he wanted her happy._

_She would strip for him as he liked it, to get him properly ready. He had gone to a high class stripper show with Severus and found it titillating, and ever accommodating Narcissa learned for him. After the delightful private showing, and she was naked, she would slowly walk to the bed followed by his eyes. _

_In there, she would slowly add extra lubrication under his watchful eye and would wait open and ready for him; it all went without a hitch, and he was done by the allotted time. _

_Afterwards, he would go to his room and always showered and scrubbed well; his body was fit, and his needs were in check until the next time._

Since she had died, he had well paid nameless witches, whose service was arranged by his son and procured by his secretary; the witches, whose memories of him were Obliviated on their way out, were generously paid and had to visit the healer before seeing him. But it had been months, no sense since their solace no longer appealed to him, not after a terribly humiliating experience, and even less since _THE NIGHT._

What he was experiencing couldn't be of a sexual nature, not as he understood it. Thus, he deducted it must be the disease that had robbed him of his heir. He had read about such base instincts which were certainly beneath him.

He had found the subject matter in several writings, and the passions they described surely weren't for people of his stature. Other authors were more accurate, they all agreed of how _those feelings_ poisoned the soul and made humans act irrationally; just as he was feeling at this moment.

**Dancing-**

His body felt foreign, hard, and uncomfortable; even his fingers ached for her; his cock was a foreign member throbbing at the rhythm of his heart, and he could have easily let his digits find the way to what they sought. He swallowed a small whimper.

It had to be an illness, this wasn't normal. It felt exactly as during that time after he had witnessed a incomprehensible act, and he had nearly caught his son's malaise that once. So why was he doing this? Holding on to her body, having her so close to him was doing nothing to improve his condition.

So why was it that didn't he want to stop this feeling, to stop this descent into the pits of hell? He knew the answer, because he wanted to stop hurting so much. First Draco had been taken from him, and then she had to go as well. That day, he had felt his insides burning with searing pain, the day he returned and found her gone, he had gone mad, and now, now, she had come back, to him. He nearly felt like crying, he was so relieved.

He held the young witch close to his body, one arm wrapped around her shoulder, his fingers just inches away from her breast tops. When they arrived to the dance floor, one of his toadies ran and took the heavy outer robe away from him. Underneath, he wore Draco's clothes, consisting of a white starched shirt, dark trousers, and a soft wool jumper two shades lighter than the trousers.

He was Draco; she could now see that, but a little broader and taller. At those thoughts, her heart warmed up to him, and she decided to play the illusion, why not. She had the feeling Draco would had approved, and she even had his permission, she smiled inwardly.

She was dressed in tailored wool jersey robes with a floating loose vest over them. It was worn to disguise her rounding figure, and on her feet she wore smart ballerina flat shoes to allow her to move fast. Her hair was up in an elaborate French braid done by Fleur, who had woven with little shells from a trip she had gone with her Draco. Her careful hairdo was now a bit messy, thanks to the mad wizard's hold of her braid, and to top it, her scalp still hurt. Her only jewelry where the emerald buttons Draco had gifted her, and she wore little make up, just perfume, mascara, and lip gloss.

The minute he stepped in, as in accord, all the dancers started to exit the dance floor. Nobody wanted to chance to step or push Lord Malfoy, and as soon as they left, a charm concealed the area from prying eyes, a standard procedure when Lucius was in crowds; he hated when others touched him, or even looked at him during private moments.

The music momentarily stopped and restarted a moment later. It was a last minute change by the D.J. and designed to embarrass the hated lord. It was a love song, and he well knew of the animosity the Dark Wizard felt for all that was Muggle, ah, yes, surely his dislikes included the beauty dancing with him.

The bastard didn't deserve her, and the D.J. hoped the song would scare Lucius back to his seat. Everyone wanted her, she was the stuff of legends, and the murdering monster had her in his arms, disgusting. She was too good for the entire lot, even the young simpering fool was an undeserving bastard, married to another, idiots, all of them.

For weeks now, Lucius had observed how this younger generation danced; either solo or jumping around each other; their movements were mostly a parody of sex while changing partners. They did vulgar and lewd things to each other; or held on to each other, nearly having sex on the dance floor, grinding hips, touching sexes...

It was revolting; nevertheless his eyes would always stay riveted on the action at the dance floor. At least, he had learned how to embrace your partner during the dance. He had taken dancing lessons when he was a lad and could feel the music inside of him, but the moves had radically changed. Narcissa loved dancing with him; she would often tell him that he had the grace of a large cat.

The song performed by a singer with a twang, grabbed his senses intensifying the sickness taking a fast hold of his body and soul.

The singer crooned "Tell me that your sweet love hasn't died..." and he felt her trembling, her sweet and warm body, safely, inside his arms, and he firmly wrapped them around her.

The music was slow; and as he tightened his arms pushing her onto his body, he was aware that nothing had ever felt so right and so wrong at the same time. She was too short, and her hands just reached the top of his shoulders, he was four inches taller than Draco, and he dwarfed her; she had such a slight body, yet curvy and full of soft places. She was exquisite, a priceless object d'art.

He felt her body relax against his, moreover, she had laid her head on his chest, and he hoped she wouldn't be able to hear the loud thumping of his heart, or the hardness at his groin.

"You were always on my mind; you were always on my mind…"

The lights dimmed and shone away from them, Lucius could feel her enlarged breasts and her belly, full of child, right against him. At such intense emotions, the bigoted and dark side of his brain shut down, and he decided to live for that moment.

He was, to her surprise, a very good dancer. He had natural rhythm and moved gracefully and sensually to the music, so she easily followed his lead. He had a large feline's grace, and he was incredibly handsome. They made a strikingly beautiful couple, particularly now, when his face was softened by the chaotic emotions cursing through him.

The lyrics were repeating themselves while he led her, ever so slightly, tightening his hold on her as he breathed her maddening floral, fresh scent. He wasn't sure of what he really wanted; never having experienced it before, except the day his sickness began.

Hermione was living a fantasy of her own_- She danced with her Draco, her lover. In her story, he breathed hard, moaned in her ear, and grounded his hips against hers, just as it had happened the first time. Not a word had been exchanged. As it was to be their pattern, every touch, every dance step, was all foreplay which led to a fast coupling against a wall, on a stairway, wherever, because they couldn't keep their hands away from each other. Their passion just couldn't be contained._

_That first time, he had joined their group and just had stared, not a word from him. They were not even friends. After their first dance, he had followed her to the loo and not even undressed when he took her inside the tight cabin. Draco hadn't asked, he had turned her around, placed her hands against the stall walls, raised her skirt, moved her knickers aside, and had unbuttoned his trousers. They had a furious and fast coupling, and he had bitten her neck and shoulders, hard, enough to elicit a cry of pain. She in turn had sunken her nails in his tight bum flesh, twisting her arms in a painful and unnatural fashion. Not a word was exchanged._

_Their brand of dancing was always subtle and sensual, a bite in the neck, hands on bare skin, slow kisses, and then a suffocating wave of desire surrounding them, wanting to be appeased and waiting just wasn't in their language. Their love had often been so, a wildfire, right here in this place; yes, as a matter of fact the D.J. had caught them more than once, and many times blatantly sat nearby to watch while smoking weed until they were done. And once, she remembered, he had jerked off while watching them. Draco had been pissed, but hadn't uttered a world. Yes, the D.J., the odd yank wizard had known their secret._

Lucius was in a world of his own; his sex demanded to be impaled inside her flesh and without thinking, his hips pressed forward seeking her warmth. At the feel of his hardness, she surprised him by pressing her body to his as close as able, and then by grinding her hips against his.

And every time that she slightly moved her hips against his arousal, he groaned and allowed her to hear his shuddered breathing. Lucius couldn't control the soft sounds forming in his throat. The sounds set her on fire, so she fully embraced her fantasy. She could feel his hands kneading her body, no longer just holding. His touched was feverish and desperate.

Again, thoughtlessly of the surroundings, but aware nobody was able to see them, his head bent seeking her mouth. She raised her face up to him, and Lucius Malfoy readied to kiss a witch for the first time.

At his age, forty-nine years old, he was about to experience a real kiss and not the superficial pecks he had thus far dispensed, but instead, he was about to give her a kiss like the ones he had witnessed not long ago. Come to think of it, it must have been the night when the baby had been made.

The Malfoy babies were always made inside the Manor grounds; they were made possible by the place's magic. It was the time when the insidious worm, responsible for the disease infecting him, took residence inside his body and mind. The memory of that night flashed in seconds in front of his eyes, in very fast progression, and he was inside his mind.

He could relieve the entire memory in seconds, just as he had done right at the dance floor, he had memorized it, and he relived _The Night_, and it made his blood boil even faster.

Finally, he understood Draco's kisses. He did the first moment that his lips skimmed over hers, at first he approached with gentleness; her lips were yielding, and her fingers wrapped around his neck as he pulled her up to him.

He enjoyed her plump softness, the taste of sweet cherries; the lips that responded to him with more of the same. He felt a small wet tip licking his lower lip, and his cock pulsed while fiercely dripping and begging to pierce her flesh.

The soft kiss turned demanding while the singer sang "To keep you satisfied, to—"

Her tongue demanded access into his mouth, for a second he was hesitant, confused, why would —. But being an adept student, he followed her lead while his hand lowered to her buttocks to press her closer to him, wanting more friction, and his knee instinctively nudged her legs apart. Her tongue inside of his mouth was tearing him apart, this wasn't kissing, this was making love with their tongues, a groan rumbled inside his chest cavity.

He now danced with his thigh pressed on to hers; he could feel the heat coming out her sex as their mouths made love. His hardness pushed relentlessly against her soft body, making him want release. She tasted of sin, of taboo pleasures, of raw need and kept promises, never unclean, never of mud.

Most of all tasted of a Malfoy witch, the carrier of the future, and he yelped softly as a wounded animal would. He had heard these same sounds before, from Draco. He desperately needed his flesh inside hers; her softness grasping his prick; he wanted to learn the pleasures that he had seen; he couldn't wait, it was no longer an option.

A terrible thought crossed his mind, the thought of losing her, and he recognized that he could never let her go; only if Draco came back, maybe, at least he hoped that he could.

He felt better now that he had made a decision; and he felt just a little compassion for the witch who didn't know that she was no longer free. He didn't feel it for long, he wasn't a generous wizard, thus the little empathy experienced on her behalf rapidly fleeted and he felt sorrier for himself. The truth was that only Hermione could give him what he needed; she had just become another war casualty and his gain.

His hand had gathered her robe and pulled it up while his mouth was nearly in throws of orgasmic pleasure. Her hand tenderly caressed his face, and her cheeks were disconcertingly wet, with tears; however his senses were too engaged with her body, were busy with the soft skin of the muscular bum he was touching under her robe. He had no time for her sorrowful tears; he wanted her cries, the ones she had screamed for Draco.

His body bent a little more and soon his hand was cupping her wet, hot sex, which he let go as if it burned but not for long. Once he brought his hand to his nose, a chill of need ran through him, and his entire body trembled wanting more. Her scent was a siren's call, he needed it.

The song was coming to an end, and he couldn't and wouldn't stop. He made another decision, a very impulsive one, a very Lucius unlike; and with a wandless gesture he Apparated them into his room at the Manor, bringing the music with him, not wanting her to change the magic of the moment. He knew his guards would know what he had done; he left a sign for them, it was automatic.

XoXoX

A/N - See you all soon. If you like this type of story let me know. Hope your reader isn't smoking. LOL. Who would like to be in Hermione's place, a show of hands…Just kidding. Btw I don't like the song, but it was a favorite of my friend.


	5. Discoveries

JKR owns the HP world.

Thanks to those who have been so kind to review. I listen to all your reviews, and try to accommodate your suggestion. And thank you for reading my work.

Yes, Hermione is also distraught, not as much as Lucius, but grief drives many to do many things.

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**Discoveries**

Another first for Lucius Malfoy was about to take place, never before had he 'dirtied' his hands with witch's releases; with Narcissa it just wasn't done, and he had always donned a Muggle device when bedding the nameless witches, he hardly touched them, much less touched them 'there'. Draco had given him several boxes once he started seeing them, because his concern to come in close contact wit strangers.

With a quick wandless gesture her trousers and knickers were gone, along with his clothes, better. He breathed in relief because her releases were precisely what he wanted at that moment, and his fingers found a hardened nub in the midst of her wet folds.

During The Night, Lucius had seen their mouths busy with each others sexes, and he wanted that as well. The vision of Draco's head between her thighs, made him whimper.

He had read about witches' bodies and knew what he needed to do, thus he flicked the small hard nub gently, and her strangled sounds rewarded him and confirmed that he had done right, his entire body throbbed with her sounds, her exotic smell, and the idea if her taste. The feel of her body, of the hot and sleek textures, had him uttering strange sounds along with her own; the room filled with needy sounds and broken words that he didn't recognize. He had been wrong about everything, and Draco had understood the secrets of sensuality and of real pleasures. All those simple pleasures had been denied to him by his strict upbringing and mistaken beliefs.

Boldly, his long finger sought the entrance into her tight channel; when it slipped in, her walls contracted in an orgasm, and the sensation made him cry loud at the intense pleasure he felt. His body clenched and shuddered at once. Dear Merlin, her vagina was hot and alive, and he imagined it squeezing his prick. The old books about witches were all one lie after the next, and he felt foolish realizing that no lubricant aid was need it when the witch was responsive and properly readied. He wanted to slde in and feel the tight channel enclosing him.

His hand reached his cock; it felt foreign; it wasn't just hard as required but way beyond. He was usually able to achieve an erection with just a little stimulation, but nothimg like this. He touched it and stroked it, finding it unusually hard, large, and leaking, just as when he was a mere lad. He wondered if his cock appeared as Draco's had that night. His son's had been very large, and rather a thing of beauty, a sculptured piece. He would have to look at his, later.

She realized what he was doing, and her hand reached to help him. She swoon upon first touching him, it felt just like her lover's; his prick was also thick, large, very wet, and pulsating; the hot, soft skin responded to her touch making his hips thrust at her touches, his groans and hard breathing made her want him inside, right then, and she wrapped a leg around him and try to pull herself up. He detected her move, surely one couldn't do what she was trying; how could he enter her standing up?

Should he ask, no, she might laugh, so he picked her up by her buttocks, and leaned against her back against a wall, and while doing so, he caught a glimpse of her, her eyes closed, and a blush covered her face set in an expression of bliss; the sight squeezed his heart, along with experiencing indefinable feelings.

He cried in a dead tongue, "Mine, I claim her as mine." Yet, he didn't hear his own cries.

Hermione wondered why was he hesitating; it was almost as he didn't know what to do.

_Unless, no way, had Draco been right, no way, it was just not possible? He had called his father nearly innocent on matters of love. Furthermore, he told her how he had to instruct Lucius after his mother's passing; on how to protect himself against disease, and other like matters, and had arranged services for someone to come to be with him, but that couldn't be right._

_ He had teased her, it had to be a joke, "My love, I am concerned to send father to a witch from the agency, and I would ask Astoria, the queen, if only she wouldn't take advantage of him. Would you meet him once a week? You can pretend, and I will watch, it would be a great turn on. My love, please, I would be ever so grateful, for all he is, he has a sweet kind of innocence. I cannot bear for him to go to someone paid, it is just done in my family. And I have seen how he watches you, he wants you, it pleases me. Besides you are mine, practically my wife, if not in name." And he kissed her tenderly, his eyes were supplicating her to acquiesce to his plea._

_ Now, she wondered, had he been really asking? That was a little bizarre; maybe that was why he had blushed when she had laughed and he had been more than a little crossed for days; and later,more than once, he had cried at the tawdriness of his father's encounters; and he had more than once tried for her to reconsider her stand._

_One day, she had to hold he Draco all night; it was the day after the incident. The hired sex witch had bitten his father's nipples, squeezed him roughly and had basically raped him, after subduing him with ligatures, and a gag in his mouth. First she had whipped him with a riding crop,and then had buggered him with an ivory phallus. By the time his guards entered the room, the witch was gone._

_Draco had to tend to him. He had been called and had found Lucius nearly catatonic, laying in his room. He had called the healer and had Floo'd Hermione the same day with eyes reddened by tears. This had happened a couple days before Draco had been taken. As for the witch, she had vanished and could not be found, Hermione had wondered if that incident bore any relevance on Draco's disappearance, probably._

_Moreover, Draco would often comment how he wished that he could prevent the 'damage' and sorrow the encounters brought to his father. Draco fought against the injustices brought about the new regime; however, he was Lucius' son, and she had known that, obviously she hadn't understood him well enough. Draco had seen his father as strangely innocent in the ways of the body and the world, and compelled to protect him. It must be true, she didn't understand the secret world of the Pureblood traditions, and she wished she had._

However, all she knew at that moment was that she needed him, Draco, my Draco. She was living her own fantasy. It was her lover's cock, and his body– it all felt like him, heaven, he smelled just like Draco. The clothes had been her undoing.

After Lucius' much trying, and sensing his distress at,frustration at not understanding the mechanics, she helped him by pulling herself up with her hands, and trying to wrap her legs around him, and then guided him into her tight entrance.

"Not possible," he mumbled.

"Yes, now," she commanded lining her nody, at this he groaned in protest. He shouldn't do it, he was rather large, and she was so little, in this position he would just not be able to stay joined, and he desperately wanted to. What if he harmed the baby? And the moment her flesh opened to allow his entrance, he tripped with them united as one.

This wasn't going to work, his whole body was trembling, his knees were buckling, the pleasure was so intense that made him believe he was dying. It was the heat, her moisture, her walls so tight making his cock ache with the pressure and the pleasure. So if this was sex, what about before? It had been pleasurable but nothing close to this.

He found the first surface available and sat her there; he wanted to see her sinful sex. He pulled out as far as he could without disengaging. His face bent down to look, and he blinked a couple of times at the unexpected view. The sight of her swollen belly, her neatly trimmed hair, and his glistening erection covered with both their releases, sliding in and out of her, made him cry with anger and regret. He had never looked at Narcissa and his joining, gods, what a wasted life.

Was this what sex looked like? He looked at her not comprehending, yet he found her beyond beautiful, the view of their joined sexes made him want to devour her. He was possessed, and when he saw her face still wet with tears, and her mouth half-open from pleasure, he knew he had to own her. She was his gift for all the bad things that happened during the last years, and he gracefully accepted it.

_Mine, mine, mine_,he repeated the litany over and over, deep inside his mind. Everyone had lied to him all his life, Muggle witches held the key to pleasure. He would think about this later. It was not a mere body function, it was nirvana; it was touching the far realm.

While his body loved her, his eyes devoured her, and crazy theories went thru his debilitated mind in a fast and mad carousel, interspersed with images, sensations and impressions, and much pleasure.

Feeling his eyes upon her face, she barely opened her eyes, and her hand went inside his mouth, to caress his tongue; at this, his hips thrust forward overwhelmed with the sensuality of their encounter, with her actions, and he cried consumed with intense sensations. She had done the same to Draco, gods. His cock and his heart were going to burst.

He put a finger on her mouth, to see her reaction, and she sucked it with relish, her tongue twirling around with pure naughtiness in her eyes and liquid fire ran through him, straight to his loins. It was as if she had her tongue around his cock. His breath got louder, all his life quiet and restricted, and now he cried chocking shudders, accompanied by sounds and words.

Her breasts, why were the covered? He performed an annoyed hand wave, there you go, she was as he remembered. No she was prettier; better, she was perfect with her breasts engorged with pregnancy. His goddess of fertility, full of child, full of a Malfoy babe.

He bent and suckled as an infant while his hips thrust wildly; then his mouth moved to the other breast, and he felt her walls clamping down on him, such sweet pain, what was that, an orgasm? She tasted of ambrosia, of life. He forgot about being gentle and his hair whipped around him.

Damn, she had orgasms, he had been right; the books his father gave him were a lie.  
As the pleasure tinged with a small dose of pain when her tight channel squeezed him hard, in short and fast spasms, words came out his lips, broken, in the old language, the one of all that all the Malfoy enchantments and secret rituals were written, however, he had not the faintest idea of what he was saying.

Hermione couldn't believe this was the same angry wizard she had known all along, her hands caressed him,wherever she could reach, hungry for his male body, they were where, and his body feverishly contorted as her hands moved.

His hair flew about with his movements; the alabaster colored skin was barely pink, rivulets of sweat down his body, his lips never quite closed, the head alternated between looking at their union; looking at her, and in moments of intense pleasure his head thrown back. He was Draco, yet, he was even more beautiful, an angel, a former angry angel who had found his redemption. His eyes were sensual and burnt with fires of intense passion.

All while his hips thrust forward in a fast rhythm, not gently, instead just like he had seen Draco do, the time when he had foolishly thought his son was crazy. He held her thigh inside his arms, just as he remembered, but she left his arms free by tightly wrapping her legs, even tighter around his hips. His hands and mouth alternated from her mouth, to her breast, and the hands slid all over her soft body bringing her pleasure, just as as he had read not long ago; he licked and bit her, and she did the same in return. She was screaming for him.

"More, harder, yes. Yes, touch there, oh, my Dark angel."

She had called him, her angel; oh, yes, he would be that for her and more. Her tongue licked his salty skin with pleasure, as her small tongue sizzled against his overheated body, and even licked his small nipples, creating currents of pleasure he couldn't even comprehend.

Lucius had never, ever he had experienced such intense sensations; and he realized how poor his life had been up to this moment, scheduled sex, controlled and repressed feelings, showers to rinse any traces of arousal and body secretions, minimum touching, what a laugh, a travesty more like it. He let out an incongruous laughter, but she didn't hear it.

At the next set of muscle contractions, the pleasure snake coiled around him. Feeling the oncoming release, an ineffable delicious burn, he barely opened his eyes, and he witnessed the magic bursting out both their bodies and was amazed to see random magic waves flying around the room. She was one powerful witch and she was his.

"Hermione, Hermione, beautiful witch, my witch, my precious goddess," he cried as pleasure gripped his groin, squeezed him, and made him wish for release.

When her walls pulsed in an orgasmic wave, he felt squeezed as never before, and he called his pleasure while the witch in his arms cried his son's name, "Draco, oh my Draco, my love, I love you," and for a fleeting second he hated Draco, and wished she was his.

In a dark murderous fit of rage and jealousy, he cried the words of claiming; the very ones he had never uttered, not even with Narcissa, because he thought such possession was too basal and too uncivilized.

What he did next was selfish, irresponsible, and careless, because, unknown to him, her soul had already been bound to this home, by his son. What he was doing was something never done before, he was about to bind a soul twice and would be impossible to gauge the consequences, the outcome. Who would know, but one thing was certain, he had just opened doors into the unknown. His speech was heavy and slurred, and his body sought completion as he spoke.

The words came out broken, in the old language; it was just pouring out his lips, words he had memorized, but he no longer remember them in English.

"Witch, by the law of the realms and the gates, you, Hermione Granger, belong to the house of Malfoy; your blood belongs to this hearth and runs through its veins now and until the end of time, and your body and soul are bound to this hall. By the iron sword, the river's water, the ocean, the rain, the earth, the darkness of the moon, and the fire of the sun, I ask the life of these stones to bind her to the Malfoy blood that runs thru me and make her womb accept my seed. From here to eternity, she is a Malfoy, in body and soul."

The last words weren't heard because he didn't say them aloud, and the other words were unintelligible, however the house spirit heard it and changes happened all around them and beyond. The sharp pain caused by her tight hold, and by growing burn tightening his groin, morphed into pleasure as his seed exploded inside her... and darkness closed around him, and he felt when his body died for a few seconds.

His body collapsed joined with hers as the house came alive with old magic.

The sentient house's incredible magic took his seeds essence and combined within the already formed child, melding Lucius' imprint into the babe's living body and soul. Scorpius would be a most special child; he had one mother and two fathers.

Had he been thinking, he might have realized that the same child had already bonded Draco and also himself. They were already bonded according to their laws because Lucius was unmarried when the baby was conceived, and Draco had issued the words to bind them, during that night at the stable. Furthermore, Lucius should had investigated old scrolls and legends and could have understood so much happening around him, specifically his hunger for her; no small wonder, she was also his.

As conscience returned, he remembered, the baby had been foretold, he was now sure of that fact but why dwell upon it? He would need to look into it. It was over and done, and all that matter was that she was his. His lips sought hers, his hunger for the witch was not yet appeased, it never would be.

Somewhere else in the house, Astoria sat by the mirror, her lover held her small breasts in his hands when he felt spectral hands around his neck, he jumped away from her, dressed, and left her room in seconds. She didn't even notice, her eyes stayed glued to the mirror, while she cried at what she saw and became afraid for her future.

Xxxxx

A/N. Even at the current freezing temperatures, the keyboard became a little heated. Lucky witch, who wouldn't wish for a Lucius of their very own, naive, yet ready to learn, and be the best of students. Sigh. Hope it worked for you.  
,


	6. Taking Over-

JKR owns the HP constellation.

Well, dear poppets We are approaching the end. Not sure about a sequel since the response has been lukewarm at best. I have another written story featuring a Lucius, shall we say, different?

**She is Mine a short interlude.**

**Taking Over**-

The second time had been slower, in his bed. She now laid with her body sprawled over his side. Her leg rested over his belly, and he could feel her wet sex against his body. She was dozing but he couldn't sleep. His fingers played with her braid, and he couldn't help to think, _it truly had the __feel of fairy silk_. He moved closer and he kher beckoning nether lips rubbing against his skin. His hips lifted to feel her better and was surprised to feel his immediate arousal, he wanted more.

Slowly and with controlled movements he casted, _Lumox sequi meo digitus_, producing a pin light which followed his fingers' trajectory. He wanted to examine her further with added visibility, and the light illuminated his hand, now over her knee, where he stopped to admire its curve and pale color. Her thigh was well defined and toned, while no rock hard as his, who stay fit, she wasn't soft like Narcissa. Instead, he would say she had the body of an athlete, not a bag of bones, slender yet curvy in all the right places; the thought made his cock throb.

He turned his body slightly, and his arousal was now between her thighs, pressing against her, while hishand continued its trajectory, his breathing shuddered as his need to have her increased. This wasn't his former self; his mind flashed to the Night, and he realize the truth; he understood it better; whereas Draco and Hermione had sex non-stop, they had also talked, laughed and played with their bodies...He also wanted to have joy while having pleasure. He had upped his ante, he wanted it all. He wanted the witch to scream his name in laughter and desire at once. He wanted her to...he wasn't sure what. He needed to decide.

He placed his hand over her curvy bottom, the flesh was generous and, oh, ever so tempting. He felt a strange desire to bite the delicious halves and to lick them, just as he had seen— and to think he had thought his son a perverted deviant, ridiculous; yes, his wish was to just that. The visual of Draco bitting her and opening her bum cheeks crowded his mind; his cock throbbed painfully and his left fingers sunk in her her flesh, whilst the other hand feverishly caressed between her thighs. His finger slid and sought his target, her moist warmth, while his body shuddered impatiently, and the light followed his hand's trajectory.

There, his fingers were at her entrance, the idea made him burn and a loud groan escaped his lips. The smell of her sex invaded his nostrils; a fresh, clean arousal, all hers, because he had cleaned her with a warm moist towel earlier and cleaned his traces; and she had playfully done the same, making him squirm; he smiled at the memory but not for long. Lust was clouding his mind, and he wanted her, again.

Daringly his fingers moved all around, touching, caressing, probing, all in a swift motion; finally, he turned her around and knelt between her thighs. She awoke but said nothing; she opened her eyes and saw the Dark wizard and smiled with secret mischief. He was so innocent, and it was so much fun teaching him.

He was examining her carefully, his face was full of wonder as he traced her sex, "Your sex is so beautiful, a true object d'art." His voiced sounded strangled and full of longing. She looked at him, ah, he was already fully aroused, and it made her desire flare; for goodness sake, he was too beautiful for a wizard.

Draco was gorgeous, but he seemed more human than Lucius. She knew his age, but he appeared in his early thirties, if that old. No wonder that every witch, young and old, lusted after him. He was amazing, and looking at her with such passion, with his hard and heavy erection, all for her, made her ache for him. Gods, she hoped that he would help her to find Draco. She smiled thinking about Draco, about his words wanting to watch her and Lucius together, two very bad wizards—

Not really sure about what he should do, his tongue, tentatively, tasted her inner lips, and his senses went into hyper mode at the new experience, his body turned rigid, and his cock twitched and his need multiplied. He went into a frenzy, licking, laving and tasting, always concentrating on her clit, while his hands touched her at the same time.

He noticed how aroused she became with each action, his fingers inside her registered the increased moisture, and he just couldn't slow down. Her sounds and movements of pleasure had him moaning, his thighs trembling, and when felt her body go stiff and cried his name, he nearly had an orgasm, his hips thrusting furiously while her hands tried to grab a hold of him, he wanted more of the same. To have the power to make her reach satisfaction, to be the one made him heady with power.

Without his awareness, she had moved away and was pushing him down, "My turn, I want to make you come," her voice was soft, yet firm; watching him pleasuring her had her hungering for some of the same.

"No, this is for you my darling, I want more of you," he protested and tried to flip her away from him. At that instance, she reminded him of a pregnant young tigress, her braid half undone, her heavier breasts heaving, and her supple muscles rippling with the effort to wrestle him down; but the best was the sound of her naughty laughter filling the room, and his heart, with a light feeling not familiar to him, joy.

His eyebrows went up when she stuck out her tongue, and said, "Lucius Malfoy, I win."

No way, he had nearly flipped her away from him, but it was too late. She had won, the naughty witch had her lips around him, covering his erection, and making his body clench from the intensity of the sensual feel of her tongue and lips.

As he arched his body and raised his hips without any inhibitions, he thrust into her mouth, "This is heaven, don't stop," he could barely remember his name.

He saw her dipping her fingers play with herself, then gathering her moisture. What was she doing, it was very sexy, purely erotic, a living aphrodisiac— but, wait, what were her fingers doing? he felt them advancing between his thighs... now they were past his groin, going towards his bum—.

He tried to pull away from her, the memory of that terrible day with the hired witch invaded his thoughts, but his protests died down when her slender finger, swiftly and gently, found her target inside of him. The spike of pleasure drowned any further objections. She hadn't mean to hurt or humiliate, but to pleasure him. His fingers held on to her silky braid, and he became a mass of raw nerves and pleasurable sensations as her slender finger massaged, and her sweet, warm mouth enveloped him..

After his orgasmic release into her mouth, and while spams still clenched his body, she let him go and laid her head on his belly. Despite his efforts to pull her up to his mouth and kiss her, she was too limp, and he heard, "You are my dark angel, Draco was right, we are good together..." His mind faded into darkness.

Upon returning into his body, he reached a third decision; it was final, he would never, ever, let her go.

Her blood wasn't an issue, his government advocated equality for the Muggle born. It was a tactical move to ensure their loyalty to the Wizarding world. He had studied extensively in order to determine the causes behind the failure of many leaders, Wizard and Muggle, and, he had figured out that one of the reasons was the exclusion of large segments of their society members; therefore, he advocated unity and sharing power with his former adversaries; he was astute and had many supporters.

He had given exalted jobs to several Muggle born, many chosen by his witch. He knew that the secret to rule for a long time was to pretend tolerance. Although nobody would question his decision, he would have to act smart when he made it public. Then he remembered the laws ruling over the Malfoys since the inception of their recorded history and smiled briefly; he was certain that even Draco wouldn't be mad at him; and the truth be told, he was still a good father because he had secured the witch for his son.

As far as he was concerned, she had proven her magic was very strong, so strong that the house had allowed her to get pregnant even when Draco wasn't her legal spouse, she had no equal, of that he was sure. He had always known, and it used to anger him.

Empowered by his rationalization of the actions that must take place, and while she was momentarily out, he put his hand to her forehead and rearranged her memories, for her own good, he told himself.

It was necessary, this way she wouldn't run out and endanger Scorpius. Besides, he could never go back to his former bleak existence, and he would do whatever it took, whenever, and wherever. Besides, she had said that Draco was right; and had inferred that his son had wished to share with him. Good boy, he hand known and understood the need to protect his hearth; outside females could ruin the peace of the hearth, and children outside of a legal union would bring dissension and animosity.

Once he was satisfied that her memories had been properly modified, he stood up, brought warm cloths to clean her, and oils to sooth any irritation. Then he he woke her up and loved her again; he fervently wished to be imbedded in place for days, for the rest of his life, she was Eden, she was a gift from across the layers, his to keep, his to enjoy and to feel her tightly fighting around his aching need, for hours, for days at a time, until his body could give no more; the thought of days and nights loving her gave him joy, and he smiled crookedly.

He would do that as soon as they arrived to their destination. They had loved each other for hours, until she slept exhausted, and he let her rest. The night was still young; it was just a little past 1:00 A.M.

Not for one second, did Lucius question his own actions and was firmly convinced of their absolute rightness. He smiled making plans for later.

A/N- Agh, I am glad we are having a freezing wave, I was fine tuning this short chapter and my, my... Hope you are having fun. Lucius is creepy, but, but...Methinks he has blown a gasket. Darn, he is nuts but ultra yummy... I want one, I imagine we all do.


	7. Plans and Execution

We come to the end.

* * *

Astoria's Gamble

"You and I never were anything special to you, and I was an idiot betraying Draco. I was one of many, don't lie to me. What lie, I just saw Theo left. This is a new low, your sister's husband, my, my. I ask again, what have you told your father-in-law, about us."

"I already told you nothing. Please don't tell Daphne. Why are you being so cold? The others don't matter, only you." Astoria begged him.

"I am not a fool. Don't you think that I am aware you were the witch that night with Lord Malfoy. I found the polyjuice, and I discovered the mangled body of the sex witch later near the rubbish bins, even if she had been so disfigured and her magical core altered I recognized her from her earlier interview. I also recognized her robe, it was the same you were so anxious to burn in the fire place. What did you do to him, and why?"

Astoria trembled in fear, she was in danger. She had only supposed to scare Lucius a little, and she had accepted to play a part for the chance to bed Lucius and have his child. She took fertility potions before the encounter, but she didn't become pregnant. The power of having Lucius under her control had been too much. Greg had been drugged by her before going on her tryst so he wouldn't intervene. Now, she was afraid she was over her head, that her dream to be the lady Malfoy might no longer be possible. And those awful images, she couldn't erase them. And she wondered if Theo had seen them, and if he had, would he tell?

"You are wrong, I don't know what you are talking about, what witch? The robe I was burning stunk of Theo's spent, and I didn't want the elves telling on me."

"Lie all you want, but if you mention my name to Lord Malfoy, I will turn you in to the Aurors for conspiracy against our Lord. I will do you a favor, clean up, and get ready, I think your hours here are numbered. A better witch will take your place."

"I am still Draco's wife. This is my home."

"Not for long. And you better not be involved with Draco's disappearance, he is my friend. I was one of the many fools who fell for your charms, but my allegiance is to my lord, and to my family. Remember what I know, and I will find out."

Greg Apparated out Astoria's room. She sat on the couch, with her face between her hand, and wished that she had never had married Draco, that cold fish. It was his fault for shagging the Mudblood, and she hoped to turn back the time.

Lucius Plans

He showered, mostly because he didn't want to share her scent with anyone else, it was too exquisite and only for the Malfoy wizards, a privilege for the chosen ones.

He was charged with magic, full of energy, good feelings, and strength; he was fully awake and didn't need more sleep. He went by Narcissa's conservatory to cut some choice flowers, no elves, he would do it himself. He left the flowers by his desk with a note for Axel to deliver to the Mistress when she woke up, and with other detailed instructions to send for her things from her former home. Then he went into his vault and brought out his seal and a small box.

He worked while the memories of the last hours circled around in a non-stop, self propelled, erotic-carrousel, merrily going around his mind. For the first time in his life, he had lost count of his pleasures. There were highlights of the events, their first kiss, the consuming desire, first seeing her sex, her sex opened to him, her soft body; and his favorite, a decadent one, her mouth around his hard arousal giving him pleasure beyond his sorry imagination, but, nothing as the moment when she had swallowed his seed.

Thinking about it, he was erect at once and leaking seminal fluid; his body's reactions brought him pride, as well as a newly acquired crooked smile. As soon as he entered their room, he took his shoes off and stretched his body next to hers. He leaned over to pull the cover off. Then with great care opened her legs and after inhaling her private scent, he moved until his tongue was between her still glistening folds. And he had thought it was dirty, please gods allow him a good laugh.

"My witch let me have just a very small taste of this magical place; I will need it to bring me comfort and to sustain me while I am gone," his voice was barely audible, and just with his tongue, he made a dainty pass which made his body harden in response. Fuck, she is delicious.

He chuckled; caressing her trim mound with his knuckles, barely touching, who would have guessed that Lucius Malfoy was such a sensual creature. His body ached in places he didn't think possible.

Such a small witch and so full of special knowledge, he mused. She had done wicked things to parts of his body; some that he still couldn't mention even to himself, just the the memories made him blush.

He lifted her hand and deposited an air kiss. "Your fingers and tongue are precious things, only a Malfoy is worth of their touch. The things you did to—my body," he smiled maliciously and chuckled with a juvenile sound recalling his private naughty memories, remembering her fingers going into, well... And for the first time in his adult life, he truly had an untroubled and mischievous mien.

"Your small hands did things to me...sinful, that before I wouldn't have allowed and would had say they were unmanly; yes, say it, I was a fool. What a clever little witch."

All the memories of the tawdry encounters were gone, purge, cleaned, erased and replaced with memories of hot pleasure with his perfect witch.

He chuckled once more. His fingers went around her belly; he loved the glow when they got close. Twice he had felt Scorpius-Draco moving around; he was a strong Malfoy, one of the future rulers of the Wizarding world. Soon, he would be able to see more into her belly, in about four weeks. He couldn't wait for the viewing. He planned for an army of babes, what a great goal, a brood of curly-silver-hair little angels calling him Papa.

"Son, your mother is a queen, you are very lucky. Her acceptance is total; the old Malfoys whose blood runs through the Manor welcomed her with open arms. I must have been blind. Just a little while ago, I saw her face already engraved above the mantel. it is a great honor you know? There are only a few, only five during our long history. I hadn't looked there for a long time. It has been there since the night of the ball, the date was imprinted; I was right, you were made during a night of great love. You are a well loved child, the future of our magical world."

Then his eyebrows knitted together, a thought that crossed his mind earlier that day. Voldemort and his father had told him nothing but falsities about the marital bed, about sex, and about the Muggle born.

Lord Voldemort, he could understand, he was fairly asexual; however, his father also had shared his views. No wonder neither of them had ever smiled, he thought with a touch of uncharacteristic good humor.

Seriously, they were the ones who told him that sex was merely a body function to be taken care every few days. That any Muggle-born-witch was poison, full of lascivious, and dirty intent. They were nasty and just touching them you would die of disgust. They say the same about the wizards. So why had Andromeda been so happy with Ted? Cissa had told him they were debauchers, because she had seen them rutting like animals and couldn't stop touching, lucky them.

Why had so many lied? He thought of a possible answer, because they believed those wanting to destroy the Magical race.

Who would have created such portentous deceit, Muggles? He quickly dismissed this theory and thought better: Muggle born had a lot to lose; such beliefs brought them no gain, just more persecution. Hence the ones at fault had to be Pureblood women. They had weakened the magical lines, out of jealousy.

Severus had been of the opinion that it was necessary to renew the blood lines, just as in the animal and plant kingdom in order to infuse fresh magic and to renew weakened chains. Interbreeding reinforced weak traits and recycled magical cores. His only friend had been right. He was a portentous wizard, and so was Voldemort, both begotten by Muggle fathers.

Draco was smarter than him, but then Lucius had always known that each Malfoy generation was more powerful and smarter than before, and he could only imagine about the new heir.

Under his charge things were about to change, he had a lot of planning to do.

As for her, for his witch, if anyone called her a Mudblood, and he would have feelers, and snitches to tell him, they would have their gut sliced open; moreover, he would show no mercy. Of course, he would need to hide it from her. Well—maybe he wouldn't do it. He smiled again, he hadn't noticed his chuckles and smiles, no wonder his face muscles hurt.

Then he took care of the rest, gave notices, wrote scrolls, and tied all loose ends. He went to make some urgent Floo calls.

Blaise arrived at the Manor at 2:00 AM, he was summoned by Lord Malfoy.

Lucius called Draco's best friends to assist him, at the end of the day they were the only ones he could trust. It was not even daylight when Blaise went back to bed, he contemplated his new appointment and Lucius' oddball behavior. He hadn't given him a hug since he was seven, and he had squeezed Theo's and his own upper arms, nearly hurt them. It had been a true caring hug. And the scary smile, maybe he had finally cracked; and what was the meaning of his frequent laughs, frightening.

Blaise went by Gringotts as soon as they opened, using the scrolls from Lucius, he effectively took Astoria's name out Draco's vaults and cancelled all her accounts to the exclusive shops. It gave him pleasure because he hated the witch. He opened a new vault, large by any means, but meager compared to what she had the day before.

He knew she had a lover, well lovers. He suspected she had had plans of her own. Not anymore, he thought. Theo had told him he had been a fool, and he hoped he hadn't ruined his marriage. Blaise shook his head, who else had fallen for her?

"For you Draco, I will do anything. may you be well and alive. We won't stop looking for you." With that he went to the urgent meeting, he knocked at George Weasley's home, others were already waiting inside and cries of despair greeted his news. The atmosphere was somber, but as Weasley had pointed out, maybe things could look up. As if they could. They all suspected it would not be easy, but they needed to hope.

Lucius had personally supervised removing Astoria and had ordered Greg to make sure no family jewelry was taken out. It was not yet 4:00 A.M. When Lucius was on top of Astoria's games, she had been flirting outrageously, and he knew Goyle to be her confidant.

Thus, Lucius reminded him of that he already had one strike. Greg already had turned hard and cold towards Astoria, and Lucius knew, the intimacy between Astoria and Goyle had to end. They were lovers, and he was going to demand loyalty. He suspected Greg would be true to himself and to his career with Lucius. He pulled Greg to the side.

" Greg, I am not a feeble old man, I imagine Astoria held you in her clutches, but make no mistake, if you stray with her, you are done with me." After Lucius words, Greg lowered his eyes and once again pledged his allegiance and loyalty, he would give his life for Lucius, he had made a horrible mistake, and he wouldn't stray again.

Hermione and he were leaving before the day was over. He was talking her to an island. One that only he knew, well his son knew, but he wasn't around, probably dead as witnesses had said. After a year, she would come back as his good wife.

As for right now, the news to everyone were that his actions had been done as an effort to improve the chance for peace between factions, and the poor dear witch was so delicate with the Malfoy child.

He married her after his son had notified him of her pregnancy, a few days before he was taken. He would give Draco the credit, he wasn't a fool, he was doing this for all of them. Draco had known that he wouldn't be able to marry her, not while Astoria lived, just perfect. This was true, even if he came back, he wasn't really lying.

He was sorry to have kept a secret; yes, that would be the official word. He would hold the press conference without her today. He would tell the press that she couldn night out, and the dancing last night had been too overwhelming, and he had decided to take her away.

As for her friends, let them rant and rave, give them promotions, blackmail them, deposit a fat sum it their vaults, tell them he would kill her if they complained. Of course, he would make sure them, and their families were unharmed and protected, it was all part of his plan. He had the list of many of her friends, and those included little Blaise Zabini, as if Lucius didn't know. He knew the witch had a large following, and Draco had brought many with him.

He would do the same with her parents. He would send her friends the funds to look for Draco; and would put Blaise in charge of the official committee. He wanted to help her group who were right by saying they had the intelligence, so in the event Hermione remembered, he had not destroyed her memories, merely re-arranged, he would come out at top.

This was a win-win, situation. Draco well knew the Malfoy-laws and had offered his former wife to him. Draco might be a rebel, but foremost he was a Malfoy; and Draco had been right about the witch, he was a smart wizard.

He still hoped Draco was found, yet, he was no longer desperate. He knew the witch was for both, come to think of it, he would like to see them, Draco and Hermione, again engaged with each others bodies, at the thought his cock said, YES. He could learn so much more.

Muggle born witches were to be contacted; it was all outlined in the new edict. His thoughts flew inside his rapid firing neurons, full of erotic images and plans for the future; and a great future was there, for the taking.

All new marriages were to curtailed, effective immediately, until each license was reviewed and approved by a Ministry he would establish. Even bonded pairs would be reviewed. No Muggle born witches could be married to other than Purebloods. Same applied to Muggle born wizards, they were to be the grooms of Pureblood witches; they would would do their part for a new future, which required the mandatory renewal of magical cores.

Those Muggles married under a year to less than a Pureblood, were to receive magical sterility until his committee could review all the cases, and so on. He was a genius, the soon to be savior of the Wizarding world. He needed the best curse breakers because he wanted Potter to be his right hand; after all, he had won over the Dark Lord.

He bent to kiss her belly, "I love you son," he was also his son, he was sure Draco would agree. Not for a second, it crossed his mind that he might be wrong.

"Your Dark Angel loves you, and he wants you well rested for tonight's pleasures, I cannot wait." And he removed his glove to touch her naked sex and brought the finger to his nose, then to his mouth, and his eyes closed in delight. Then he re-gloved without washing his hands.

He picked up his cane and left, the sun still hadn't come out.

He went by the Ministry where all waited for him, he had Owl them, and left his instructions including the new Muggle Act to further protect all Muggle born, and to give equal rights to all magical humans; Halfblood was officially a forbidden word which carried heavy fines; his Scorpius' blood was the best.

Wherever he walked, people made remarks about his disconcerting smile and the eerie glow his eyes emitted. Some would say Lucius Malfoy had turned a new a new leaf.

Poor Arthur Weasley, he nearly had a stroke when he was called into the Minister's office; he had heard of those who never came back from private meetings.

Arthur's heart gave a flop when he saw Percival in the waiting room, he was trembling as a leaf, he squeezed his son's arm to give him reassurance he didn't feel.

"Arthur, Percival, please sit," why was Lucius smiling? It wasn't a good sign. What a strange smile, neither recalled such a sight. It wasn't fake, just unnerving, as if it was untried and his face muscles were unaccustomed. Father and son shuddered with apprehension, waiting for the other shoe to drop and crush them.

Less than twenty minutes later, "Greetings to your lovely wife and other children. Congratulations on the promotions, and Percival be prepared for long hours while we are gone. You will need to make sure the Muggle Act is widely publicized."

Lucius shook their hands, that was the same, still encased in his gloves, and once again he smiled crookedly; it made the two Weasley wizards shiver and be covered with goose bumps. Neither heard the astute slip of the tongue, but they would later recall it,—while we are gone.— All was a part of his plan.

They walked away and went straight to the men's bathroom, their bladders weak with fear that wouldn't go away. They were speechless and looked behind them for the rest of the day. Dual, fat promotions, besides of bonuses and private secretaries.

George had told them about their leader, but not once had he mentioned Hermione. What had the Dark Wizard done to her? Maybe he had killed her, and what were they to do, she was the one with clout, the one who was admired and courted by the rich and powerful? They would survive, that was what they would do.

The surprises were not yet over, and their mouths opened in astonishment when they saw the posted sign at Hermione's office. A brand new shinny gold plated sign, -Deputy Minister of Magic and Minister of Magical Creature Rights-. Looking closer, they saw that it wasn't gold plated, it was pure gold. A crowd of well known decorators and artisans were pouring into the office busy discussing the decorating theme, both Weasley blinked and just stood frozen in place.

Hermione- a new reality

Later during the day, into the early afternoon, Hermione opened her eyes; she didn't feel well, and her entire body ached. Ah, she remembered, her beloved husband had taken her dancing for Valentine's, so she would do well to have a quiet time today.

How strange, her room looked, hmm, changed? No, it must be her migraine. Silly witch, why should her beloved Lucius have changed anything, she turned around to go back to sleep. Ah, he was so romantic last night and the hot and delicious shagging which followed, just like during that night at the stable, the day when she became his; and— wait, what was the name of the song?

Her eyes closed but not before she felt little Scorpius-Draco happily stretching in her belly and sticking his thumb in his lips.

Inside her womb, the babe smiled, he was pure magic, he could already communicate with his mother, face it, he was a Malfoy, twice over, with two powerful daddies. He was one lucky baby.

The end?

A/N

At least for now. Lucius had his happy ending...and seems many other did as well...


End file.
